


and we killed the sun.

by rephlanca



Category: BlazBlue
Genre: BroCon, Incest, M/M, Maiden Rose AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 08:08:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rephlanca/pseuds/rephlanca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maiden Rose/Hyakujitsu no Bara AU. Jin Kisaragi is a high ranking Saxon, Ragna the Bloodedge is a visitor from far away oriental lands -- or is he? Both countries are at the brink of war, but they rage on with battle of their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and we killed the sun.

_Can we win our own war?_

A medley of strings began to stir through an office, dank and dreary with the color of black night coloring the misty, dusty corners of the room. Gloved fingers tapped against pristine, gloved knuckles. With a small sway of propped up shoulders came the soft tinkling of small gold medallions clashing against one another. A fine melody, Jin mused, as he watched the golden leaves of autumn fall in perfect tempo with the trumpets and violins echoing forth from the old phonograph in the far corner of his office. The music quickly swelled and a low, bass voice began to sing in a strange tongue, but the high General could only be seen mouthing each and every syllable with such a precise and sharp tongue, that it was obvious it was a known tongue. 

The Saxon straightened after a moment, seemingly being released from his reverie as a knock came to interrupt his privacy. His hand curled tightly, knuckles resting at the small of his back as he kept a tensed, attentive pose. The blonde, with the sharp snaps of his legs, moved to pause the spinning vinyl disc and amble towards the door with the _clack clack_ of his boots. He opened the door with a swift turn of his wrist and peered upwards at the underling through the razor-sharp edge of his cap. The poor man jumped and stumbled on his own words before managing to barely babble out their message. 

"S-Sir! The train has nearly arrived, sir!" Sea foam green eyes scanned over the lad; he saw a pathetic figure; sloppy salute, trembling heels that clicked in the most obnoxious rhythm. Jin couldn’t help but feel pity. His eyes traveled down to the double stars and he made a quiet sigh.

"Yes, yes, I understand. Dismissed, First Lieutenant." 

Soon after he had left, the General was left alone with a devilish smile to his lips, piquant in its existence as the man seldom showed any veritable emotion other than repugnance and annoyance. With a satisfied sigh, the breath leaving his lips in a hurry, Jin reached to grab his favorite sword. His partiality bordered obsessive and there were many a rumor of the blade being given to him by sources whose names were barely spoken in hushed tones. 

The man was escorted to the military base’s train station by some captain or other. Frankly, Jin couldn’t be bothered to care.

The entire dock was painted in the dull greens and grays of soldiers on standby, many of which wielded a gun much too awkwardly to denote any real experience with the weapon. Jin cringed. How adorable, children playing soldier. The sharpness of his green eyes was caught by perhaps a solider or two and were strangled enough by the mere daunting aura to quickly turn away. 

Ah, yes. The feared General Kisaragi. A man with a surname foreign enough to sound like an enemy from the opposite side of the war, but no. He was quite the opposite. He was a proud Saxon, and one of the best war tacticians the uniform had seen in years. 

But that was all unimportant now. Jin watched as the rackety scrap of metal — that, for the record, remained sanctified so long as a certain prize remained inside it — skid to a stop, the main doors halting before the blond and his escort of burly buffoons. 

"The train has successfully docked!" Someone unimportant called out, but Jin didn’t care. Frivolities, formalities; that’s what this all was. Why couldn’t they all be over sooner? He wore his excitement as a gilded crown of thorns; held with pride at their beauty, but they pricked him nonetheless. Jade eyes softened and widened as the steel doors began their damned, teasingly slow path to open. It was only until then that someone close to the general vocalized curiosity as to the identity of the visitor.

"A traitor, they say." Someone was brave enough to venture. "From the other side. They meet with the general from time to time to discuss how the war is going from the outside as well as the inside."

The blonde man scoffed quietly to himself. A traitor; no. An infiltrator; yes, but only of the highest pedigree. What did it matter to the others what he was, anyway? What did it matter what he was doing? He quietly wished the snooping pugs be smitten where they stood. 

Escorted by four soldiers at each corner, the traveler made his slow exit of the train. Ah, yes. That was none other than his, 

"B—" beloved, betrothed (he wished), berating rival that he so fervently loved and detested with a passion synonymous to the rabid, gurgling, snarling wrath of a helldog. "—rother."

The sigh was barely loud enough for himself to hear, but enough for his skin to break into goosebumps. His breath was hitched and cut as that face finally came into view.

He did not look to fit the part; mostly because he didn’t. He was not one of them. His face was too sharp; it looked to be cut from the finest marble at all the right, fearsome angles, much unlike Jin’s which was soft, rounded, and delicate-looking. The stranger looked too tall and toned, despite his hands being hidden inside the cloth of long, flowing sleeves. His stark silver-white hair was perhaps the most distinct feature about him, however — a feature that was highlighted by his mismatched eyes and crimson robes.

Jin could only concentrate on his face, the beautiful thing, as he walked out towards him with a hard set expression, one that spoke of bravery and dignity but the blonde knew these were all darling fallacies that he kept up for the public. And oh how lovely he looked, eyes trained solely on him as his head was crowned by the corona of the setting sun. How lovely it looked, that blood, pomegranate red dripping into the horizon and dying everything that terrible, fearsome color. It was so terribly fitting, it nearly made him swoon.

With a set of quick hand motions, the soldiers fell back and Jin turned on his heel to walk back towards his quarters. A quick glance backwards as enough to deter any questions or soldiers that might have wanted to follow along, and the reassurance that his dear, dear brother firmly planted those decorative sandals in the tracks of his own boots.

_Click, click._

Ragna’s eyes glowed in the dark room as they pierced the younger. Jin pressed his hands back against the now locked doors and nearly melted to the floor. “Haven’t they gotten suspicious yet? You leave so often, I’d think you’d have been found out by now.” He only received a small shrug from the albino, his tense form never dissipating. 

“‘Dunno.”

The smallest trace of a foreign language could be caught on his tongue, but it only spiced that deep, guttural voice that sent electricity through his nerves, overloading him with that voice that he so rarely heard, and he so desperately craved. But the younger brother kept himself composed; he always kept himself composed. It was through this trained eye that he could see Ragna’s muscles shifting underneath that silken cloth. He saw those knuckles whitening in the blue-black palette of night, those nails digging into his legs and clothes as if he was an animal ready to spring in fight-or-flight. Jin liked to tell himself it was fight; it was most probably the latter for the elder knew what was coming. He knew that predatory glint in Jin’s eye and there was no mistaking what hell-wrought path this entire scene was about to follow. 

And the blond wanted it no other way. He knew Ragna resisted with his every fiber, but with the right pushes, the right prods and the right herding, he’d give in. He always gave in. 

That consummate night was filled with Jin’s mirth and his gratitude for his brother’s sacrifice; where the sunless sky was to be their witness, stars dripping in envy.

**Author's Note:**

> Done for a request. It was a really interesting spin on their dynamic, but I think it fit them rather well!


End file.
